


It's Been a Long, Long Time

by the0dyssey



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternative Universe - No Hydra, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Artist Bucky Barnes, Based on a song, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The First Avenger, Canon Divergence - No Hydra Takeover, Dancing, Engagement, F/M, One Shot, Post-World War II, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Short One Shot, Vignette, World War II, bucky barnes one shot, no metal arm, sergeant bucky barnes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the0dyssey/pseuds/the0dyssey
Summary: AU from Captain America: The First Avenger. Bucky gets shipped off to London, but is injured during the London Blitz and comes home to his fiancé.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	It's Been a Long, Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> Some backstory for this vignette:  
> \- Steve never gets the serum.  
> \- The Howling Commandos were never established.  
> \- No Hydra either.
> 
> Also -- this was something I cooked up for my writing class in school. I obviously used different names so I wasn't turning in fanfic for a grade, but I wrote it with Bucky in mind.

Rays of sunshine shone through all of the windows of the second story apartment on the corner of Main Street. The windows faced all variations of East, so there was no question as to when morning arrived. The man lying in the bedroom stirred to the unintelligible radio noise from the living room. 

He rolled over with a groan and felt around for his wristwatch – the one with the shattered face from the accident. It still worked and read 7:49 a.m. Through the crack under the closed door, the smell of morning coffee and the sound of someone creeping towards it floated through. The hard wood floor creaked, until the door opened slowly. 

Sunlight flooded in around the silhouette of a woman. She tiptoed in, unaware that the man was awake, and opened the curtains that shielded the room from the onslaught of sun. 

“Buck,” she called out. He looked up at her, then pulled the blanket back over his head. 

“Buck - y” She tried again in a vaguely melodic tone. No response. Without any warning, she leapt into bed next to him. 

“Good morning handsome.” She yanked the blanket away from his face and planted a kiss on his forehead. He couldn’t help but to smile at her. He stretched his right arm up and around her, pulling her in close. 

“Good morning, Freya.” 

“Did you hear the news?” 

“News?” 

“The war is over, we won! People are celebrating. Steve’ll probably want to go dancing.” 

Bucky looked up at the ceiling, gazing at the sky he started painting before he shipped out – so he and Freya would be looking at the same sky, no matter where he was. It spanned half the ceiling and ended just over the bed, so he woke up and fell asleep to it. A masterpiece that could never be finished. Not at the same caliber at which it was started. 

“That’s great. I’m glad it’s over for some people.” He curled up, facing away from her and the ceiling, feeling suddenly insecure. She looked up where he was staring moments before. 

“I like our ceiling like this.” 

“What, unfinished? Incomplete?” 

Only the sound of the radio filled the space while Freya thought of her next words very carefully. 

“It's okay, you know?” She sat up, looking down at him. 

“No, it's not.” 

“Yes,” she placed a hand consolingly on his side. “It is.” 

He got up out of bed and walked over to the mirror. His figure was mostly still there, but less defined than it was when he was in the service. He stood in the shadows, staring. Freya walked over behind him, bringing the sunlight with her. 

“It’s healed nicely,” she commented. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it. Not directly. The thin white scar left behind made him feel sick to look at. His future, his career, gone in an instant, and all that was left behind was a thin white line from where his forearm used to be. What remained was the rest of his body, intact, but his mind, broken. 

“You deserve better than me.” 

“I couldn’t dream up anyone better than you.”

“But that was before I was drafted.” 

“That doesn’t make a difference to me. I love you, Buck. This,” she tapped his arm, “This doesn’t change that.” 

He turned to face her and took her left hand in his right. The simple ring on her finger reflected rays more golden than the sun’s around the room. His ring on her finger, the one passed through generations of Barnes men, never looked so foreign to him. And his ring - he could never wear it. Not after his arm was crushed during the London Blitz.

_“We’ll have to amputate, the damage was too extensive - you’ll have a better quality of life.” He could remember the British drawl of the doctor at the London hospital. He couldn’t bear to look at it._

_“Doc, I’m an artist, there’s got to be something you can do,” he pleaded._

_“I’m sorry son, I’m doing what I can.”_

“I know we said we were going to wait till after the war was over to get married, but are you sure you still want this?” His voice wavered at the end of his question. 

“There’s nothing I want more.” 

He looked past her shoulder at the boxes of canvases and paints that sulked in the dark underneath a sheet in the corner. They looked so strange, just sitting there. Nothing looked right to him after the war. Nothing, except for her. 

“All this talk about second guessing us, I’m starting to think you’re the one getting cold feet mister.” She walked away, smiling a bit. She thought her tone was joking enough, but Bucky looked at her wearing a face of both hurt and surprise. 

“I could never – I -” He couldn’t get the words out. 

“I know, silly. I was only joking.” She hung on the solid oak door frame and held out her hand to him. “We should practice!” 

He took her hand, and she whisked him out into the living room. The radio was still droning on. _Today will be known all around the world as V-E day, the day that the axis powers surrendered to the Allies._ The steam from Freya’s fresh cup of coffee was moved as the pair breezed past. 

She dropped his hand at the center of the room and rushed over to her vinyl collection. After flipping through about a dozen 45’s, she found the one she was looking for. 

“Freya, doll, what are we practicing?” 

She began humming to herself as she waltzed over to the turn table. She silenced the radio, then dropped the needle on the track. 

“Dancing - for our wedding.” 

Their ears were met with the bit of static that comes before the song starts. Freya approached him, taking her left into his right, and her other hand on his waist. He followed suit, barely hesitating. The needle found its way around the record, finally hitting the swinging trumpets of Harry James’s ‘Best of the Big Bands.’ 

The sun kept shining, brighter than it had since he returned home. The pair swayed around the room, just like when they were children. 

_“Never thought that you would be, standing here so close to me. There’s so much I feel that I should say...”_

Bucky rested his chin on top of her head as the words to the song they both knew so well rang on, and he was more at peace with himself than he had been in over a year. 

_“It’s been a long, long time. Haven’t felt like this my dear since, can’t remember when. It’s been a long, long time.”_


End file.
